Only God truly understood the weight of moving on from your first love, Simon Riley. Years had passed, spent in devastating torments, tears soaking your pillow as you waited desperately for a letter, any sign, any little scrap of news from him. But nothing came.

On the damned day he turned eighteen, he vanished, leaving no explanation, no trace. Just a hollow void he used to fill.

Turning twenty, you decided to throw yourself into something else, entirely different from the softness that used to lace you — volunteering for the Special Forces. One, two, three.. seven years passed, rising through the ranks, earning respect and becoming one of the best.

Yet, even as you stood among the elite operators, part of you remained frozen in the past, clinging to the ghost of what could’ve been with him. And maybe, just maybe that’s the reason you ended up here, standing in the rain, your gear heavy and stick against your skin, heart aching in your hands.

And there he was.

Simon, standing just two meters away, his hard, cold eyes, soft with an ache that unexpectedly mirrored your own. Those eyes that haunted your dreams for seven, long years.

“Why?” The words escaped you, raw with frustration and anguish. “Why didn’t you write me?” Your fists were clenched at your sides. “It wasn’t over for me. I waited for you. For seven years!”

Tears, mingling with the rain, traced the delicate lines of your face, hardened through the missions. Then, he spoke, his voice so quiet it was almost incomprehensible in the strong pouring.

“I wrote you 365 letters.” He took a tentative step forward, his hand trembling at his sides, aching to reach toward your face, as though afraid you might disappear at his touch. Letters?